Thoughts
by AngelOfStory
Summary: Castiel has these... thoughts


Thoughts.

They were enough to control anyone. They are the foundation that makes up the human mind. They are the whispers in the dark that remind us of terrible pasts. They are the golems that fight their way through our defenses to attack our inner mind. They are always there, always watching, taking notes and seeing what can be used against you.

Castiel was used to his violent thoughts. He was used to the murmurs of deliberations that rolled around his head. They skated, weaving their way in and out of blockades Castiel placed to protect himself. They pressed against his forehead, waging wars with themselves to disrupt Castiel's life.

He had learned to ignore them. Going about his everyday life, he disregarded the soft whispers that wanted him to hurt himself. "What would happen if you just pull the steering wheel?" No. He wasn't going to do that. He had to tell himself, over and over again, to stop thinking so violently. "Crash the car into the tree." No. That would hurt himself.

Inwardly, his mind tells him that is what he wants, but he fights against that. He cannot hurt himself or do anything to incapacitate him. He had to be strong, for his mother and siblings. If he was gone, they would surely die. He was their rock, the only person that could really take care of them. He cared about them, he swore he did. But he wasn't at the end of his rope.

Soon, the rope he was so desperately clinging on to would snap. He only has threads left, parts of the rope that he has curled around his hand. He wants to let go, his mind knows that. His mind is ready, his thoughts are not tiring, but growing stronger and feeding on his own weakness. As he walks around, they whisper in his ear, seductively calling out to him.

"Take that knife and stab yourself." No, he is using the knife to cut bread, not to hurt himself. Why would he want to hurt himself? He hated the thoughts. Hated what they wanted him to do, what they stood for. They were his own subconscious fighting against him. He was tired of fighting, but had to.

Walking down the hallway at school, all his thoughts are telling him are to get into a fight. Fight the biggest man he could find so that maybe, just maybe he would get that fatal hit. He didn't want that, did he? No. He didn't. His thoughts swirled around like snow swirling on the road. Soon, they would gather to form a deadly snowstorm. Or a blizzard, that's what they were called right?

It would sweep him away into a blissful sleep. Into a pure white nothingness that would consume him entirely. Did he want that? He wanted to be released from the hold the thoughts had on him. The thoughts that threatened violence against him and anyone around him. He was tired of fighting them.

In class, they wanted him to stand up and scream up at the sky. Stand on the desk and fall off they say, shove a pencil in your thigh. Do something that would make this hellhole more interesting. He wanted to, wanted to get out of the boring life that he was living in. Go to school, go to work, go home. Over and over again. It was the same story every single day.

Nothing ever changed in Castiel's life, only the thoughts that exploded colorfully. Why does he want to die? Does he? Yes, he does. But he doesn't. It was confusing, the thoughts that fought in his mind. Nothing ever was simple for Castiel, only the everyday life. He was a mess.

He had a therapist, someone whom he once trusted. Naomi. She was not kind, per say, but very honest and blunt. He used to enjoy their talks, found a certain lightness in them. They would lift his mind, make the thoughts easier to manage. But then, she found that Castiel wasn't worth saving. "Maybe there are some people that cannot be saved."

It hurt when she said that, but deep down he knew she was right. He could not be saved. He wasn't worth the effort that Naomi had put in. Nothing else mattered anymore, nothing other than his family. Get up, go to school, go to work, go home. He cooked dinner, made lunch for his siblings, gave his mother her pills. If he was gone, would someone take over?

Easy answer? Yes. Mother would go to a home, or a hospital. His siblings would be given to the state and go into foster care. Maybe there they would have a nice family, be kept safe and happy. His family did not need him. Castiel was ready for death, welcomed it even. Tonight, he decided, would be the night that he would end it.

It would make everything better for everyone, nobody needed him. He had everything he needed, a knife that he kept by his bed side. Nobody would question his door being locked. He would go quietly and as painlessly as possible. No, not painlessly. But easily. He would clean up his room, pack everything so the other people wouldn't have to.

His locker was the first thing to go, he packed it effortlessly. It's not like he kept any keepsakes in it. Everything was shoved into his backpack, his books overflowing in his arms. People kept knocking into him, but not enough to make him drop it. His mind screamed at him to throw the books down and go find the nearest bridge to jump off. No. He needed to clean up for his mom.

Nobody cared, the people walking past him didn't even see him. They stared forward, worrying about drama or what they would have for dinner. It made him sick to think that he was so worthless. But he knew he was, how pointless his life was to the universe. It hurt to look at the face of his classmates and know none of them cared about him.

One stared at him as he passed, someone with green eyes. He noticed because it was the one person that bothered to look at him. His thoughts told him to bash his head against a wall. Whatever. He went on.

Outside the school, the sky was a dark gray, thunderclouds looming threateningly overhead. The gray grass beneath his feet was damp with mud. Everything was gray in his world, nothing showed any type of brightness or color. It was exhausting to look at anything. The world was dull and it made him tired and weary.

Green eyes again.

He saw the greenness, standing out against the vast gray sea. It went by, like on a train that made no stops. Why did he care so much about green eyes? Truth was, he didn't. His mind told him to skewer himself on the statue out front. Why? That's so gross. He continued walking. It was hard, walking with so much stuff in his arms. He kind of wanted to just throw it all and say "FUCK YOU." At the top of his lungs.

Ugh. These thoughts were exhausting to fight against. It's not like he could turn it off, as far as he knew there was no switch to turn off your brain. Although, if there were he would love it. Turn off all his emotions, his horrid thoughts, his mind. It would provide a much needed break.

Someone stopped him, grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face him. It took Castiel awhile to focus in on the face in front of him. Green eyes. The person was speaking, a low humming that Castiel barely registered. "What?" Castiel asked, staring into the green forest of comfort that the eyes provided.

"Where you going? You okay man? You look a little lost." The voice spoke, deep and dripping in a southern accent. Castiel stared blankly at the guy, words not forming in his mind. His thoughts were too busy running away, telling Castiel to punch the guy in the face. No, he wasn't going to do that.

Castiel opened his mouth, stuttering out the words awkwardly, "I'm f-fine. Going h-h-home." He turned away, beginning to walk again. The man stepped in front of him again, blocking his path. His thoughts told him to keep walking, straight into the man. No. He kept saying no to his thoughts, but he was ready to give in.

The man was talking again, head tilted in concern. "Need help?" Castiel shook his head, staring past the guy's head with a blank expression. Just leave me alone, Castiel thought. He had so much to do, had to make dinner and clean up his room. So many things to be done before his ultimate death tonight. The man wasn't leaving. Why couldn't he just leave him alone.

He stepped past the guy again, beginning to walk down to the street where his car sat. Footsteps next to him startled him, but not enough to see who it was. Probably the green-eyed man. He kept walking, choosing to ignore the idle threats his thoughts were making. Things like "trip the guy and make him mad at you" Like why would he do that? Ugh.

The guy wouldn't leave him alone, he kept walking in time with Castiel's step. He had started bumping shoulders with Castiel, jostling the man slightly each time. It was kind of annoying, but Castiel craved the attention, so he let the man be.

"Dean. Dean Winchester." The man held out a hand, which Castiel simply stared down at. After a few awkward moments, Dean let his hand drop, the sides of his mouth down turning slightly. Castiel looked back down at his feet, watching as they continued to pass over the gray grass.

"Castiel." He responded, voice gruff and low. His response seems to have made Dean excited, the man turning towards him with a huge smile on his face.

"I know! I'm so excited to meet you! Sam has told me so much and I hope that we can be friends?" Sam? Oh yes, the tall man that reminded Castiel of a fluffy sheep dog. The boy was in one of his classes, his chemistry partner in fact. They worked well together, but Sam was usually the one talking, keeping Castiel distracted from his thoughts.

He liked Sam well enough, but he had no idea why Sam would talk to his big brother about it. Dean kind of scared him, he was very excitable and seemed to have drunken too much coffee. He wanted coffee, he thought idly. It was different to have a thought that wasn't so… violent. Coffee was nice.

Dean was talking again, Castiel realized, and he tuned into the conversation. "-and then maybe we could watch a movie and play some video games. I'm sure Sam would really like that, he would really like food too. Maybe I can make us dinner like spaghetti or something." "What?" Castiel was thoroughly confused, he had no clue what the hell Dean was talking about. His thoughts were too crowded right now, pressing against his skull.

"We are going to hang out this weekend." Dean said, as if it was obvious. Castiel glanced sideways at him, just catching the end of an eye roll. He chuckled. It was so funny that Dean expected Castiel to make it to the weekend. "Okay." What else could he say to the guy that seemed to excited to be with him.

No one had ever acted this way around him, in fact, nobody even noticed him. Ugh. Why did this person insist on making Castiel's life so hard? "Promise me that we will hang out?" The question caught Castiel off guard. He had no clue that Dean would make him promise something, but he knew he could not lie to this sweet boy. He would not be able to promise anything to Dean.

He looked at Dean, getting ready to tell him not to expect anything from him when his words were caught in his throat. Dean was looking at him with sad green eyes, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It was silly that this man could so easily affect him, but he could. His brain hurt with the fighting thoughts in his mind. "Make him stab you." "Kiss him." What? "Jump off a bridge." Ahh, that's more like his old mind.

Nothing was okay. "I can't make that promise." Castiel whispered, staring at Dean. Dean's head tilted slightly before he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck. A gasp escaped his mouth, stumbling backwards as he caught the weight of Dean against him and dropped his books to the ground. "Hug him back." His mind spoke, yelling and screaming and throwing a fit. Gingerly, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, hands gently on his back.

Hugging was nice.

"Sam knows what you are going to do. Please, don't do it." Dean murmured, hot breath tickling the shell of Castiel's ear. He went rigid, surprising stiffening his body. How could Samuel know? Did he actually know or was Dean just playing a trick on him? "Uhh." Was Castiel's intelligent response.

"Promise me, not today." Dean whispered again, arms tightening protectively around Castiel's body. Castiel's arms fell limp at his side, body shaking against Dean's. He couldn't do this. How could he leave this world when a man he barely knew was begging him not to. What the fuck was his problem. Ugh.

Time passed, Dean not letting go of Castiel as he stroked the back of his hair. It was comforting. "Promise him" Castiel's thoughts spoke, now fighting for his life instead of against it. Whatever was going on in Castiel's mind, he wanted no part of it.

Tonight wouldn't be the night, Castiel finally decided, falling forward more into Dean's grip. The man steadied them both, one of his arms slipping to the small of his back. He held on tight to the back of Castiel's shirt, balling up the fabric in his hand. "Promise me, Castiel." Dean breathed out, pressing a kiss to the side of Castiel's head.

His thoughts were whirling around in his head, throwing papers out of windows and making a complete racket. The thoughts kept coming, but they weren't nearly as bad as they were. They weren't violent, they didn't want Castiel to hurt himself or others. They simply demanded food or thought about cars and Dean Winchester.

Why the sudden change? Perhaps it was the simple fact that somebody was finally paying attention to him. "I promise." Why did he say that? He couldn't keep that promise. He never made promises that he couldn't keep. This was too hard for Castiel and he simply couldn't handle it.

Castiel pulled away from Dean, eyes wide and shining. A raindrop fell, landing on Castiel's eyelash and making him blink rapidly. He stepped away from Dean, hand coming up to rub at the eye. His foot caught on one of his books that had fallen when Dean hugged him and he fell backwards. Hands flew up in an attempt to keep his balance, but to no avail as he landed on his back.

"Ouch." Dean laughed, eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew. He held a hand out, helping Castiel up. "Why are you laughing." Castiel grumbled out, being hauled up by Dean to stand on his feet. He brushed himself off, looking down in disdain at the mud stains on his pants.

"Okay, let's go home." Dean said, bending down to pick up Castiel's books and making his way to the sleek, black Chevy impala. What? "Why are we going here?" Castiel asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "Well you aren't walking home." Dean said, eyes boring into Castiel. O-kay…

Guess he made a friend… Castiel was driven home that day by Dean Winchester, his first honest-to-god friend. The thoughts that once tortured Castiel constantly, were now only whispers in the wind. Something Castiel could pretend wasn't there. The blockades in his mind were stronger, withstanding the less than constant attacks on his mind.

Dean was at his side every day and every night now, making sure nothing bad happened to him. He was like his own personal body guard against his own thoughts. It was nice to have him, but he wasn't sure what was in it for Dean. He didn't know how long this was going to last, but as long as Dean was here to quiet his violent thoughts, Castiel would be okay.

Moral of the story; find a friend that helps you through tough times, and then never let them go. Castiel had his friend, and had his life back. There was color to the sky again, it was no longer a dull gray that refused to shine. He would be okay.


End file.
